


No Scars to Your Beautiful

by CelesteFitzgerald



Series: Beatles requests from tumblr [34]
Category: The Beatles (Band)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-30
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:27:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27276445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CelesteFitzgerald/pseuds/CelesteFitzgerald
Summary: Even after months of being together, Ringo still feels nervous about George seeing his scars.
Relationships: George Harrison/Ringo Starr
Series: Beatles requests from tumblr [34]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1914673
Comments: 6
Kudos: 40





	No Scars to Your Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> Two requests for this one:   
> "George loves Ringo's scars, fluff, Starrison"   
> "Aparently George said "If Richie can't love his scars I'm doing it twice as much" so: Ringo feeling insecure about his scars and George comforts him. (Starrison)"

George lay in bed, smiling as the sunlight streamed through the window. He ran his hand over the slight indentation beside him, the imprint still warm. The faucet shut off from the bathroom, and George sat up as the door opened.

“Good morning,” George said, admiring the sight of a shirtless Ringo who hadn’t quite finished taming his bedhead.

Ringo froze. “Hey, Georgie,” he said tensely. “Sorry. Didn’t know you were up.” He shuffled to the closet and grabbed the first shirt he saw.

“Ritchie,” George sighed. But Ringo continued throwing the shirt on anyway. “Are you really still this worried about your scars?”

“Can’t you just let it go?” Ringo muttered, hugging himself as though not even the shirt was enough to hide the scars from George.

“ _No_.” After four months together, Ringo was still self-conscious about his scars. George could understand being nervous around strangers and acquaintances, maybe even friends. But the man he loved?

George patted the bed, and Ringo reluctantly sat next to him. “You know I think every bit of you is gorgeous, right?” George asked.

“Yeah.”

George grabbed Ringo’s hand and squeezed. “Then what’s the problem?”

Ringo looked down. “It’s not just the scars. It’s what they represent.”

“What do you mean?”

“It was awful, George.” Ringo’s voice was strained in a way George had never heard before. “I was in those goddamn hospitals for years. It was scary and lonely, and they kept…cutting me open.” He stabbed at his stomach with an invisible scalpel. “I felt so pathetic. And I just want to leave it all behind me. But these damn scars are still here after all these years, reminding me how weak I was.”

George was stunned. Through all the times Ringo had mentioned his hospital stays, he had never opened up about the experience quite this much. “Hey,” George whispered, resting one hand on Ringo’s neck and the other on his waist. “Nothing about you is even remotely weak.” He slid his thumb over Ringo’s covered scars. “You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah, right,” Ringo scoffed.

“You _are_. You went through hell—as a fucking child—and you survived. And you’re still the most cheerful, optimistic person I know. No one else could pull through this the way you did.” Gently, George lifted the edge of Ringo’s shirt. “I know I can’t take away the pain of it all. But can I at least help show you how incredible you are?”

Ringo waited a moment, then shrugged.

With one slender finger, George brushed the surface of one of the scars, and Ringo shivered. The roughness was hardly there; most of his skin was perfectly smooth. But George loved that little hint of roughness. It’s what made Ringo ‘Ringo.’

“Beautiful,” George whispered, using his whole hand to caress all the scars at once. He needed Ringo to see what he saw. The scars weren’t failures—they were achievements. “You’re so strong, Ritchie.” He met Ringo’s gaze and felt a magnetic pull toward him. “So brave.”

Their lips met softly, and Ringo sighed against George’s mouth. George pressed his palm against the scars, hoping that his touch could convey more than his words, maybe even heal the ‘weakness’ that only Ringo could see.

Ringo giggled softly, his breath warming George’s lips.

“What?”

“You’re ticklin’ my tummy.”

George grinned. “No, I wasn’t.” He poked his finger into Ringo’s stomach until he tried to squirm away. “ _Now_ I am.”

“Bastard,” Ringo muttered between laughter-filled gasps.

Maybe George’s “healing” plan hadn’t worked. Then again, he thought, as Ringo looked over at him with a radiant smile, his hands not moving to cover up where his shirt was still ridden up, maybe it had worked after all.


End file.
